Ridge Lines: 'Once upon a time time'

Published: Sunday, August 3, 2014 at 4:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Thursday, July 31, 2014 at 3:46 p.m.

Have you ever heard of Robert William Smith? Few people recognize the name. But if I said Robroy Farquhar, there would be immediate recognition.

This remarkable man established the Flat Rock Playhouse.

There is affection and respect attached to that name.

Robroy Farquhar, born in Liverpool, England, became the stage name identified with one of Henderson County’s cultural pioneers.

I first knew Robroy when I was 8 years old. I was invited to participate in a children’s program, “Once Upon a Time Time.” It was a radio program broadcast over WHKP. Jimmy Northington was involved — and, of course, there was the vagabond Robroy.

A few years later, I was chosen to play small parts in “George Washington Slept Here” and “The Family Upstairs” at the Lake Summit Playhouse down in Tuxedo.

Lake Summit was the second location for the traveling Vagabonds. The first was the Old Mill Playhouse on Ridge Road, not far from the present location of the Flat Rock Playhouse.

I learned lessons for living. Once I made a stage entrance and forgot my “prop.” I was supposed to bring in a magazine. I remember how frozen I was for the second it took for me to realize my error. I made something up and went offstage, where the property mistress was holding the magazine and shoved it into my hands.

I returned, and the scene went as written. The audience (I am told) had not been aware of the momentary nightmare that I had experienced.

You learn to improvise, build on what is known — “go on, ready or not.”

I performed at the Flat Rock Playhouse during the first season on “The Rock.” It was 1952. I remember Joe McKennon erected the tent. Joe was affiliated with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. You can imagine how exciting it was for me to perform under the big top.

By this time, I was about ready to enter the eighth grade. I was given a “big part” — Bebe in “The Happy Time,” a coming-of-age drama all about a French-Canadian family. At the end of the run, we took the production down the mountain to Donaldson Air Force Base in Greenville, S.C.

Mark Sumner, who for years headed the Institute for Outdoor Drama, was the director. I would later reacquaint with him at Chapel Hill and the Playmakers Theater. Dorothy Masterson taught acting. She was associated with the Mint Museum Theater in Charlotte.

You might say I was in the first class of YouTheater, along with my sister, Pat, Jonathan Ray, and Keats and Robin Farquhar. We all drank the elixir of Leona’s honey lemonade. Mary “Val” Mims was the dietician.

I remember “Be a brick — Buy a brick” and Robbie’s cat, Snodgrass. I can still hear the chirping crickets outside the theater.

Robroy was truly a remarkable individual. Many of us can remember how he drummed up audiences for the plays. He worked Main Street and gave out free passes. Robbie would often ride a bicycle. He always hiked up one trouser leg so it could not get caught in the chain. He would tie the raised trouser with a string.

It was not an easy life for his wife, Leona — and their two children, Keats and Robin. We watched as they helped make his dream a reality.

The Lowndes House (“Rockworth”), in off-season, was cold and drafty. There were times when he was alone.

My mother would worry about Robbie staying warm and would invite him for dinner during winter months. He loved spaghetti, and my mother could make great sauce, with lots of cheese.

He would gladly accept the invitation. He was a people person.

There was always a time at the end of the evening when he would nod off as he sat in a comfortable chair, always chosen closest to a furnace vent. There he could be content in the warmth.

Anyone who has lived a life in the theater knows what I mean when I refer to illusion and reality. You work weeks to build a world that, after several performances, “melts,” as Prospero says, “into thin air.” You are left with an empty stage and memories. Did it really happen?

There are few who can accept a lack of permanence. Shakespeare said, “All the world’s a stage.” The metaphor of the stage helps us to understand a little better what life’s all about.

Robert William Smith came to us back in 1940, and during his 40-plus years among us, showed us what it takes to realize a dream. It takes dedication and hard work.

I would like to see on Main Street an image of the Vagabond.

The Vagabond, the player with his bindle, has come to represent the man. Robroy was similar to the Pied Piper. He attracted a host of followers as he made his journey.

<p>Have you ever heard of Robert William Smith? Few people recognize the name. But if I said Robroy Farquhar, there would be immediate recognition.</p><p>This remarkable man established the Flat Rock Playhouse.</p><p>There is affection and respect attached to that name.</p><p>Robroy Farquhar, born in Liverpool, England, became the stage name identified with one of Henderson County's cultural pioneers.</p><p>I first knew Robroy when I was 8 years old. I was invited to participate in a children's program, “Once Upon a Time Time.” It was a radio program broadcast over WHKP. Jimmy Northington was involved — and, of course, there was the vagabond Robroy.</p><p>A few years later, I was chosen to play small parts in “George Washington Slept Here” and “The Family Upstairs” at the Lake Summit Playhouse down in Tuxedo.</p><p>Lake Summit was the second location for the traveling Vagabonds. The first was the Old Mill Playhouse on Ridge Road, not far from the present location of the Flat Rock Playhouse.</p><p>I learned lessons for living. Once I made a stage entrance and forgot my “prop.” I was supposed to bring in a magazine. I remember how frozen I was for the second it took for me to realize my error. I made something up and went offstage, where the property mistress was holding the magazine and shoved it into my hands.</p><p>I returned, and the scene went as written. The audience (I am told) had not been aware of the momentary nightmare that I had experienced.</p><p>You learn to improvise, build on what is known — “go on, ready or not.”</p><p>I performed at the Flat Rock Playhouse during the first season on “The Rock.” It was 1952. I remember Joe McKennon erected the tent. Joe was affiliated with Ringling Bros. and Barnum & Bailey Circus. You can imagine how exciting it was for me to perform under the big top.</p><p>By this time, I was about ready to enter the eighth grade. I was given a “big part” — Bebe in “The Happy Time,” a coming-of-age drama all about a French-Canadian family. At the end of the run, we took the production down the mountain to Donaldson Air Force Base in Greenville, S.C.</p><p>Mark Sumner, who for years headed the Institute for Outdoor Drama, was the director. I would later reacquaint with him at Chapel Hill and the Playmakers Theater. Dorothy Masterson taught acting. She was associated with the Mint Museum Theater in Charlotte.</p><p>You might say I was in the first class of YouTheater, along with my sister, Pat, Jonathan Ray, and Keats and Robin Farquhar. We all drank the elixir of Leona's honey lemonade. Mary “Val” Mims was the dietician.</p><p>I remember “Be a brick — Buy a brick” and Robbie's cat, Snodgrass. I can still hear the chirping crickets outside the theater.</p><p>Robroy was truly a remarkable individual. Many of us can remember how he drummed up audiences for the plays. He worked Main Street and gave out free passes. Robbie would often ride a bicycle. He always hiked up one trouser leg so it could not get caught in the chain. He would tie the raised trouser with a string.</p><p>It was not an easy life for his wife, Leona — and their two children, Keats and Robin. We watched as they helped make his dream a reality.</p><p>The Lowndes House (“Rockworth”), in off-season, was cold and drafty. There were times when he was alone.</p><p>My mother would worry about Robbie staying warm and would invite him for dinner during winter months. He loved spaghetti, and my mother could make great sauce, with lots of cheese.</p><p>He would gladly accept the invitation. He was a people person.</p><p>There was always a time at the end of the evening when he would nod off as he sat in a comfortable chair, always chosen closest to a furnace vent. There he could be content in the warmth.</p><p>Anyone who has lived a life in the theater knows what I mean when I refer to illusion and reality. You work weeks to build a world that, after several performances, “melts,” as Prospero says, “into thin air.” You are left with an empty stage and memories. Did it really happen?</p><p>There are few who can accept a lack of permanence. Shakespeare said, “All the world's a stage.” The metaphor of the stage helps us to understand a little better what life's all about.</p><p>Robert William Smith came to us back in 1940, and during his 40-plus years among us, showed us what it takes to realize a dream. It takes dedication and hard work.</p><p>I would like to see on Main Street an image of the Vagabond.</p><p>The Vagabond, the player with his bindle, has come to represent the man. Robroy was similar to the Pied Piper. He attracted a host of followers as he made his journey.</p><p>Robroy Farquhar is to be admired — not forgotten.</p>